by Cathryn Fox
So completely and utterly out of my league.
I work to push down the panic rising in my throat and go down on my haunches, needing a minute to regroup. I steal a glance at Logan and hope he can’t taste my fear as it hovers around us like a dark rain cloud.
His eyes glint knowingly but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to comfort me. While I’m grateful for his distance, I really hate how well he can read me. I also hate that I spent my whole life building walls and with one simple look, one simple heroic act that happened to save my hide, this boy is able to puncture a hole in my armor.
As I take deep fueling breaths and work to get myself under control Logan’s eyes zero in on my ribs, and the blood trickling over my fur. He growls low and a tortured look moves over his face.
His voice is hard and demanding when he says, “I need you to heal yourself, Pride. Right now.”
With that, he turns around and shifts into his human form. He grabs the backpack from the rocky embankment and slides the zipper open. My eyes never leave him as he pulls on a pair of pants, t-shirt, jacket and boots. Once dressed he moves toward me with a pile of clothes in his hands.
He drops them in front of me, but I don’t shift back. Not right away. Not with his eyes still trained on me. I realize that with all that’s going on back at the compound, and with life and death hanging in the balance out here in the wild, my nudity seems like such a foolish thing to worry about, but I can’t seem to help myself. I’m a runt, one who is scarred and flawed and completely self-conscious around this alpha.
Just then a thick cloud moves in front of the early morning sun. As it darkens the forest, as well as my mood, Logan turns from me and makes his way to the water to wash up.
I want to thank him—for saving me from the bear, for the warm clothes, and for sheltering me last night—but I can’t seem to push the words past my lips. With his back to me, he cleans himself up and I use that opportunity to shift and pull on the warm clothes at my feet.
“They’re hunting wolves so I think it might be in our best interest to keep our human forms.” He angles his head to look at me and the instant our eyes meet and lock I realize everything between us has changed. From here on out, whether I like it or not, we’re in this game of survival together.
An uneasy truce has been made.
Unnerved by that thought, I narrow my eyes and ask, “Who are you?”
8
Logan stands and stares at me. “I thought you didn’t want to know anything about me.”
I roll one shoulder and try for casual. “If we’re going to run together I guess I should probably know a few things about you.” I stop to pull a few twigs from my hair before I add, “You know, so we’re able to read one another if we land in trouble.”
It’s a half-truth, because when it comes right down to it, if I’m going to run with this powerful alpha, I need to know everything about him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to determine what I’m up against.
Is he a wolf who would turn on me first chance?
Then again, is there any other kind?
While he’s shown kindness by keeping me sheltered last night and by helping me fend off that vicious bear, the truth is, from the world we both come from, wolves only show kindness to others when something is wanted or needed.
Does Logan need something from me?
I push to my feet and leave my boots where Logan dropped them. I walk barefoot to the river and note the fine shiver trickling along my spine, warning me to be careful where this boy is concerned.
Going down on one knee I bend forward, cup my hands and take a good long drink, until my thirst is sated. Then I splash my face with the frigid water and rub the dirt and debris off my skin until my flesh is practically raw.
When I come up and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, I find Logan watching me. He has that unreadable look on his face again, an expressionless mask that hides a lifetime of dark secrets.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, his blue eyes flickering over me.
I don’t falter under his piercing gaze. In fact, I hold my ground, let my glance pan over our clothes, then focus back on him.
“I guess the first thing I want to know is where you got these.”
“Hikers.”
“These hikers, where are they now?” I ask cautiously, the implication clear in my tone.
As understanding flares in his eyes, he smirks. “So you think I’m a cold-blooded killer, then?”
“It’s good to know who I’m running with.”
He dips his head and he arches a questioning brow as his eyes move over my face. “Don’t you think if I was going to kill you I would have done it by now?”
“Not necessarily.”
Logan might have spared me while I slept but I don’t believe that means I’m safe, or that in a few short days under the pull of the full moon he won’t try to tear my head clear off my neck.
“Well if you must know, Pride,” he says in a very matter-of-fact kind of way. “I had to do what I had to do so I stole the backpack while the group of hikers were sleeping.” He rolls one broad shoulder. “They had enough supplies that they won’t miss a few things.”
I eye him skeptically. “So why’d you do it? Why’d you put yourself in danger by sneaking into a camp where there were so many hikers?”
“Like I said, I had to do what I had to do.”
“Why not catch one backpacker alone on the trail?”
“There was no time,” he says, and I can tell he’s losing patience with me.
Regardless, I plant one hand on my hip and glare at him.
Exhaling slowly, he pushes his hair off his forehead. “You’re really not going to let this go are you?”
“No.”
“Fine. It’s as simple as this, Pride. You needed clothes, so I got them for you.”
“It could have waited,” I challenge.
“No. It couldn’t have,” he shoots back, then pauses long enough to slide a glance over me. “Because you’re completely uncomfortable in your bare skin.”
I blow an exasperated breath. “Unlike you,” I rush out, unsure if I’m more rattled by his perceptions, or the fact that he treats me like a girl, not a wolf.
His grin turns coy. “That’s right, Pride. I’m not at all uncomfortable with your bare skin.”
My head jerks up. “That’s not what I-”
Logan’s bark of laughter cuts me off and I don’t miss the way he skillfully redirects the conversation—putting an abrupt end to my probing—by saying, “Come on. I spotted a herd of deer not too far from here.” He gives me a wink and jibes teasingly, “And while I appreciate you leaving our cozy shelter early this morning to go hunting, you know, so you could bring me back a big, juicy bear steak, I think perhaps we should stick to smaller game.”
I ignore the crack and shove my feet into the warm boots, which prove to be two sizes too big, but I’m not about to complain. I have a million other questions I want to ask, but as I tie my laces I can sense his reluctance. I don’t need to read his thoughts to know he’s being cautious with me, which confirms my theory that he is holding secrets. I suspect if I want answers I’m going to have to switch tactics and find another way to draw him out.
“What else do you have in there?” I ask.
He shoulders the huge backpack like the weight inside is insignificant, and in one fluid motion jumps onto the icy cliff. “A few staples.”
Heading north we track back up the mountain in silence but as I follow from behind I keep an eye out for possible threats. I really don’t want to come upon another unsuspecting bear, a mother who is simply protecting her cub.
When we reach the top of the summit Logan presses his finger to his lips and gestures with a nod. I follow his glance and my wolf stirs as the intoxicating scent of wild deer curls around me. It teases my hunger and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop my stomach from rumbling.
Logan angles his head and lowers his voice lo
w. “Do you want to get a fire going while I hunt or do you want to join me?”
I take a minute to entertain the idea. I’ve never hunted deer before and since I don’t want to risk making a mistake and showcasing my flaws I lower my voice to match his and say, “I’ll light a fire.”
I turn to move but he grabs my elbow to stop me. He pulls me close and his scent practically overwhelms me when he puts his mouth close to my ear and says, “You’re going to be here when I get back.” I realize it isn’t a question. It’s a command.
Packaged in his arms, we exchange a look and when I stop to take his situation into consideration I realize he trusts me about as much as I trust him. Good. At least we both know where we stand.
I jerk my elbow from his hold and repeat, “I said I’ll light a fire, so I’ll light a fire.”
His mouth tightens as he sizes me up for one more moment, then, astute wolf that he is, he says, “I guess you have a lot to learn out here. Once our stomachs are full, I’ll teach you how to hunt wild game.”
I snarl at him, wondering how this wolf can read me so well. Why am I so transparent to him? As I listen to the smooth, easy flow of his blood, I also wonder how a wolf who’s also been confined knows so much more about the wild than I do.
Logan begins to shed his clothes and I look for a distraction. I shuffle along the ground and haphazardly kick dry leaves and tufts of moss out of my way. When I reach a clearing, a spot where the trees have thinned enough for me to light a fire, I gather twigs and branches and wait for Logan to finish morphing. Once he’s transformed, I hurry back, gather his clothes, and take them to the clearing with me.
After I scent the air and determine that there is no danger lurking nearby, I make a rock circle, toss a few dry leaves into the pit, and top them with small, spindly pieces of timber. As I stare at my handiwork, I wonder if Logan has any tricks for lighting the wood.
Deciding to see what supplies he swiped from the hikers, I reach for the heavy backpack and pull it open. I rustle around inside the front compartment and when I find a plastic container filled with coffee crystals, I let loose a little joyous yelp. I open the container and take a long whiff. It’s not hazelnut but it still smells delicious.
“I see you found the coffee.”
I turn and as I watch Logan stalk toward me his strength and ability don’t go unnoticed. Trying not to stare at his nakedness, I look past his shoulder and a few feet away I see a small deer. As I look over his kill, I can’t help but admire his skill as a hunter. The scent of blood reaches my nostril and I pull it into my lungs.
My stomach growls and my nails extend, but I don’t dare move. I know how things work in the wild and the last thing I want to do is provoke his wolf. Even my mother let my father eat first.
He cocks his head and asks, “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I thought the alpha went first?” I return.
Frowning he responds, “We’re a new generation, Pride. We don’t have to do things the way our parents did.”
“I don’t think—”
“Why don’t we just eat together?”
I’m so ravenous that he doesn’t have to ask me twice. Logan reaches into the backpack and pulls out a pack of matches. As he lights the fire, I turn away and shed my clothes. After I shift, we feast on the game and it’s odd how I feel such a strange intimacy in the way we’re sharing a meal together, probably because the alphas I know always eat alone and always go first. Logan moans and digs in harder. Since I don’t know when our next meal will be I follow suit. We continue to eat long and hard and until our stomachs are bloated.
After we finish gorging Logan nudges me with his muzzle and says, “How about that coffee?”
I nod quickly and we both lope toward our clothes. We change back to human and dress, then I purse my lips and stare at the coffee grounds.
“How will we drink it?”
He gives me a look that suggests I’m dense, and I don’t miss the mischief in his eyes. “You didn’t think I’d steal coffee without cups to drink it in did you?”
“Of course not,” I say like such a suggestion would be ludicrous and when he points to another section of the bag, I reach in and pull out two small plastic cups. “That would be stupid of you.”
His laugh curls around me and does the weirdest things to my insides. Not wanting to get too comfortable around this boy, I step back, putting a bit more distance between us.
“I’ll get us some water.” He opens yet another compartment and grabs a small pot.
“You really thought of everything haven’t you?”
A crooked grin turns up the corner of his mouth, and I realize just how gorgeous he is when he jibes, “I’m a total bear without my caffeine.”
I shiver, remembering the incident at the lake. “Then let’s get this pot brewing because I’ve no desire to deal with another angry bear today.”
I watch him go and conclude that if I have to run with an alpha, it might as well be one who is as fond of coffee as I am. When he dashes out of sight, I stoke the fire and wonder more about the boy who knows so much about survival.
A few minutes later he returns with the water and I scoop a few crystals into each cup as he holds the pot over the fire until it boils.
He fills our cups and keeping a safe distance from one another, we both sit back, lost in our own thoughts as we sip the brew. The taste instantly reminds me of Mica and my stomach squeezes. I stare at the sky and renew the vow I made to myself a few days ago, ever determined to get the elders out alive and crush my master once and for all. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, I only know it’s something I have to do. But right now, before I can put a plan together, I have to figure out how to survive in these woods.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you follow me?”
Suspicion flickers in his eyes. “Follow you?”
“Yeah, to the lake.”
“Oh,” he says and for a minute I wonder what he thought I meant. “These woods are dangerous, Pride. Especially for a wolf like you.”
I can’t help but feel a little insulted. “What do you mean a wolf like me?” I challenge.
“It’s just…”
He pauses, like he’s having a hard time pushing the next words past his lips, so as I grab a stick to poke the fire I come to his rescue by saying, “You mean because I’m a runt.”
His head jerks up and surprise moves over his face. “What are you talking about?”
I wave my hand over my body. “You know, a runt. A genetic defect.”
He grunts and a strange tormented look moves over his face. “You’re anything but a genetic defect, Pride.”
I shrug and ignore him. “I know what I am.”
“What I mean is you might be a great tracker, but you’ve been locked up for what, seventeen years?”
When I nod, he says, “Out here in the wild, you’re inexperienced.”
Since he opened the door, I decide to enter. “So how do you know so much about the wild? Who taught you?” I ask, carefully drawing him into conversation.
He takes a sip of his coffee before he explains, “Basically hunting is instinctive, but pups learn tricks and techniques from their parents.”
Interest piqued and feeling like I might be getting somewhere with him, I lean forward. “So you weren’t always confined then?”
“No, not always.” He fidgets and his throat works as he takes another long pull from his cup. The movement is slight but my wolf picks up on his sudden unease. What is it that he doesn’t want me to know?
“So your parents taught you?” I ask, prompting him to continue.
“Yeah, my dad taught me to how to stay downwind, how to look for weaknesses and how to approach from behind. If you want I can show you those things.”
I know if I want to survive out here it would be wise to learn whatever I can and accept whatever skills he’s willing to teach me. “I do.”
There is real sadn
ess in his eyes when he says, “My dad also taught me how to spot infection in a pack. We’ll want to avoid diseased game.”
Talking about his dad has me thinking of my own and sorrow that I never got to know him well saddens me. I was only a pup when the master removed him because he was becoming too powerful, too influential amongst the pack. I might have been young but to this day I still remember his scent, his voice, and everything he taught me.
“Is your dad still, you know…” I can’t seem to bring myself to finish the sentence.
He shakes his head and when he says, “No. PTF.” I get the sense he’s sharing something very private with me, something very difficult.
I look at the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“How about you, are your parents alive?”
“No.” I reach for another stick and stir the dirt at my feet, and without conscious thought begin to draw a picture of the ocean. “My master.”
We both go quiet and I want to ask him where he lived before capture and where he’s headed now, but the next question comes from him.
His brow furrows in thought and when I realize he’s watching me draw, I scrub it away, not wanting to share that private part of me with this stranger.
“Why did they call you Pride?”
“Because I’m a runt.”
“How is that—”
I cut him off and say, “Despite my deficiencies I was the only one in a litter of three to survive. I proved to have strong survival instincts so in my parents’ eyes I was their pride and joy.”
Even though that brings a smile to his face, as soon as the words leave my mouth I want to grab them back and swallow them whole. I’m not sure why we’ve fallen into such a deep conversation or why I’m telling him such private things. I don’t want him to know anything about me and I want to be the one asking the questions, not answering them. I drain my cup and think perhaps the buzz from the coffee has managed to overstimulate me and make me careless.
I turn the conversation back to him. “Why did they call you Logan?”
“It means wisdom.”